The Blood in Our Veins
by An Average Rambler
Summary: First fan fiction so please be gentle. Takes place after the high chaos Emily dies ending. distraught and wallowing in self pity Corvo Attano takes one of the last boats out of Dunwall and to Pandysia, but fortunate and/or unfortunate circumstances lead him to the elemental nations were he will live the rest of his life in, but what of his legacy. M blood and gore, and slight angst
1. Prologue

Prologue

This is merely a fan fiction and I do not own a copyright over anything (at least not the things that I'm writing about)

For once, his life seemed calm, the only sound was the water, a faint pitter-pater of droplets on the cold metal Floor and the rhythmic slosh of foamy water against the stalwart hull, this seemed true, then why is isn't it. He suddenly felt a sickening lurch in his stomach as memories flooded into his now lucid mind. Muscles stiffened; quickly he shot off the floor. Equilibrium quickly restored itself to his rapidly shifting body as he scanned his surroundings and matched them to memory. His body relaxed as he deeply observed his world.

It was dark near pitch, even to the adjusted eye. Mere shapes of large dark brown crates encircled him in the void like darkness. The ground was a dark grey nearly black steel tiling. The walls were no different in this underworld except with girders visible throughout like ribs of a whale. The rats frequented the small clearing he slept leaning on a crate in; funny how they weren't there when he first arrived but now are, stowaways stick with stowaways it seems.

The sudden outburst of movement caused by the man seemed to cause fright in the groups of wretched vermin. There shrieks of protest were familiar but nonetheless grating to the man, but after that the vermin kept their distance for a while. In his present state of mind he could not care at all; his mind was quickly enveloped by guilt and the past. His body leaned back onto the crate, and then slowly he slid back down to a sitting position. His eyes, glazed over stared out into the dark void stretched out before him, the abyss. All that was left for him after all he had done was to reflect over his failures and regret his wrath.

He had been sleeping there with his grey jacket; it kept him "warm", the hood was up to help obstruct his face. All he had with him was a dagger, the clothes on his back, and three provisions in his satchel, food, water, and money. He had found the dagger a while back, he liked because it was light, and sharp, but what he liked the most about it was the lack of stains on the blade. The rest of the things that he had, are for the most part irrelevant, except the money of course, 800 coins of it, more than enough to bribe silence out of any sailor, and maybe even a captain. It was simple, all the bribe required was that you toss ten or twenty every now and then and it seemed to be sufficient for the crew.

This voyage was one of the last vessels out of Dunwall to Pandiisia. "The Wailers Hope" was its name of the ship ironically. More importantly it was an escape from Dunwall for all aboard the vessel. Some like this man have their own private reasons, but most if not all are escaping certain death from a city being torn apart externally by plague and internally by a power vacuum in a government corrupted to its core. The imperial line is dead and the last two regents have been killed along with a large portion of the ruling class of the city, noble and religious. Almost all the lower class and most of the middle class are dead from plague. The remaining survivors are fighting over the last scrapes as the finale vestiges of civilization collapse on top of them. It is only a matter of time before the city and most if not all inhabitants are dead.

Already he knew that it had to been at least a week since he embarked on this voyage. He sat there for what must have been hours; he could no longer tell whether it was night or day. His mind so far had been as if on a piece of debris floating on a sea of guilt and self-loathing, but not in these long periods of solace from the world only interrupted by dreamless sleep and biological necessities. He lost his hold of the debris and has been drifting further and further as he treads water. Soon he feels, he knows, he will lose strength, sink, and then drown. The strength to swim is waning and his dagger has started to look enticing.

He remembers what happened to him six and a half months ago, the fingers of his right hand twitch. The death of an empress, his eyes wander downward. The kidnaping of the heir, his eyes lock upon the hilt of the dagger, hidden in his jacket. The framing of the crime, his hand slowly crept up to the now exposed hilt. The Imprisonment, torture, and dishonor, his hand shakily grasps the hilt. The bloody vengeance, his hands grip firms. Betrayal, slowly the blade lifts out the sheath. Just the nature of man, the daggers blade seems to shimmer in the darkness. A blade, the blade covered in the fresh blood of the assassin, in his outstretched arm the daggers blade takes a warm inviting, ethereal glow, a glow that promises. Burn them Pierro, he holds the dagger up to his neck, his hand is shaking. At the lighthouse, for blood, for her, grip firms. The last screams of Emily Kaldwin as she plummets to her death" Corvoooo!" Corvo plunges the dagger into his neck. A laugh from the void reverberates throughout the cargo hold.

Corvo awakens to a loud, long, and pained creak. A creak, that of a door with rusty hinges makes when opened. The laughter of the Outsider himself echoes in his mind

Authors note:

This is my first story so please be gentle. Now that I have that out of the way, I would like to say that Pandysia will not be the elemental continent that would be stupid and sorry other people who have or have already done that I'm calling you stupid unless of course you make it work, then I will give you a hand shake (metaphorical of course) but I will not eat my hat. But if you do make Pandysia the elemental continent and make it a super tiny portion of the fanfic and just use it so that a main character of the show and/or game and/or OC have dishonored powers your fine in my book just a little lazy(WOW? That started of bad but at least it got better as it went). Anyways I will make my to the continent with Void magic, ship drama (that almost hurt to type), and a vengeful and/or bored godlike entity. Also finally can anyone tell me if I am spelling flour wrong? Also am I using the right Pandysia Spelling?

In conclusion see you later

Rambler


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter one

Again, I own nothing

Hello again, I would first like to say that I really did not plan on this chapter to be so bloody and gory and disturbing and I will try keep this from being a trend

Reader discretion advised

Cecilia slowed her pace down; her breath was chaotic and ragged, her legs were screaming in protest of their continued use, and her heart was beating in a fast, panicked rhythm, she was exhausted but relieved, she had made it. The incident at the hound pits pub was a very recent and bitter memory that clung to her mind, especially since she had been running from it for the past hour or so. She just couldn't think about what had happened to the others, no, just keep moving.

After Corvo left to "take care" of the guards she thought that maybe she could slip out in the confusion. She had a pack of essentials and a note waiting for him should he return to find her gone. In the conversation with him she may have hid or at least try to hide the fact that she was scared and shocked and disturbed. What followed after he walked out the door, she almost wouldn't dare recollect. She did not want to see what happens, next she knew what Corvo did and what he was capable of doing, or at least she thought she did.

First, silence apart from the noises the guards made nothing. Then there it was a sound of flesh being cut followed by pained gurgles and a thud. Naturally what followed next was of shock and alarm, then an almost silent strange noise almost indescribable in its eldritch tone, and again gargles of misery but the thud was drowned out by a loud series of explosions mixed with cries of surprise and screams of anguish. That eldritch sound again only this time followed by a loud metallic crash, crumble of pavement and a load explosion. Swords against sword in a melee of clangs and gunfire, there were several wet sounding impacts and splatters followed with what can only be described as hell. The screams sounded like souls damned to eternal torment in the deepest darkest pits of the void. Quickly the screams and cries of the dismembered and disemboweled ether faded or were silenced with a slice or gunshot.

Silence, it was welcome but only worsened the previous sounds by contrast. Cecelia just sat there in the abandoned apartment she was hiding in. she was shocked to her core. What she knew took place in less than eighteen seconds, but it felt like minuets as every sound from the battle was experienced and digested as if one at a time. After what seemed to be minutes of silence (five seconds) she came out of her apartment, detesting and marveling at the sight of the carnage. There were 12 bodies, and many more parts of bodies, and what seemed to use to resemble the human form now charred and mangled flesh fused to metal wreckage. The street was no longer a street, it is forever changed, morphed and tainted by not just the blood and the scorch marks but the memory of this massacre.

She slowly walked into the sight of the massacre trying to avoid the gore but it seemed to be almost everywhere. Her face was green and bile was rising in her throat as she slowly traversed Corvo's massacre, so slowly and carefully as a dear would approach civilization. She inched her way through the mess trying to avoid any of it, but sometimes it could not be avoided as a sickening plot or squelch echoed across the scene.

Suddenly, footsteps so many footsteps, eighteen of the city watch raced to investigate the ungodly sounds of the massacre. Cecilia was petrified her, flight response overwhelmed by fear. It was when all eighteen of the watch was present that one of the mangled corpses began to moan as it awoke from unconsciousness. Some stayed steely eyed and barely kept their composure with years of experience and discipline, most lacking that showed a mixture of shock, disgust, and fear, then there were three rookies who completely lost all composure and vomited were they stood. In the end they were all scared, backed into a corner and they knew it, there fear lead to anger and rage, they had to lash out at something. The commanding officer screamed out among other profanities, "get that murderous bitch!" It was in that moment that her flight instinct overcame her fear, she ran.

Abandoning all respect and fear of corpses, she hastily treads over them in her flight. There was a large hole in the Quarantine blockade to the right of the scene, which is how she escaped it. At first she ran from her pursuers, but after around ten minutes it was obvious that she escaped them. Running and running she just had to escape. The city watchmen that chased her are either dead, lost or retuned to the pub. So why run, she was running from it all, the executions of Lydia, Wallace, and Calisto, the executioners Havelock and Martin, from the assassin Corvo, even the philosophy of the loyalist, the memories. That is what she ran from, down the corpse laden streets, the victims of the plague, all wrapped in sheets and placed in piles and lines throughout the streets. These victims were all once normal people bakers, housewives, merchants, beggars, and children, all swept away in the chaotic and merciless maelstrom that is the plague. She ran from that to, but even when she ran to the next street death was there, and the next one and the next one, it was always there, a serpentine miasma slowly tightening its grip, chocking the fast dying city, before consuming it.

She had found a building with an unlocked door she made a quick scan of the inside, it looked clean and the stench of death seemed to lessen inside. The house had two stories, the stairs were close to the front door, to the left was to kitchen/dining room and further from there were the utilities and the right had the living room and study, upstairs were as she could guess the bedrooms. The whole visible house had a warm inviting felling it would have been almost unnerving if she were capable of it. She quickly collapsed to the floor from exhaustion, then plunged into unconsciousness

Her sleep was dreamless. When she awoke she began to look around the house, it seemed well preserved, too well preserved to be uninhabited. She began her search of the house in the kitchen. She noticed that the cabinets where all closed, when she looked in them they were all stocked with food, strange that they have not been raided yet. She searched throughout the lower floor of the house which looked completely undisturbed, it unnerved her.

Now she started to look up stairs. The city had (ever since the plague arrived) developed a strong stench of death. It was still present in the house but it seemed greatly diminished so far. At first the change was undetectable in its obscurity, but as she climbed the stairs though, she began to notice, death, the stench strengthened. As she neared the door the smell increased in potency. When she reached the door she could almost make out the sound of buzzing, it was greatly muffled. Slowly the door knob tuned. Quickly and quietly she opened the door, and the stench climaxed.

The room was filled with the loud sound of hundreds of flies buzzing, two corpses, just that, any traces of identity that these corpses had in life was gone, all that was left now is festering flesh bursting with maggots and greasy bones. There was a gun in one of their hands, caked and stained with dry blood, almost black now. From the stains and dried splatter it seemed like double suicide. She closed the door pausing a moment letting what she saw sink in; fell down, vomited and burst into tears.

She cried for the dead, so many innocents, taken by the nonsensically brutal hands of god, the misery. Dunwall now a dammed city quickly plummeting to its demise, the knife at its throat had finally sliced, now it's just bleeding out. It was in that moment she realized that she had to get out before death claimed her too.

Quickly she gathered all the supplies she could carry and then trekked across the city to try and board passage on one of the last ships out of the harbor getting on one of the ships was not a matter of money it was that of speed. If you got there first you're getting on, if you arrive late and the ship is full your stranded. Cecilia arrived in the nick of time and was just barely able to board one of the last ships out "The Wailers Hope."

Authors note:

Sorry about rushing it at the end I did not feel like lingering to long in Dunwall for obvious reasons, it was messed up. And now that we have that out of the way we can get to what will happen on the ship. Also with this I am editing the first chapter some more so that it is more coherent.

Rambler


	3. Chapter 2

I own nothing

Chapter 2

Cecilia had boarded passage on "The Wailers Hope" a week ago. Her normal day consists of running the same routine over and over. Her glazed eyes holding portals to a troubled mind; the same could be said for just about everyone else aboard the Sokolov wailing ship turned refugee ship. All inhabitants of the vessel had at least experienced some great emotional trauma in the cursed city of Dunwall, and all are pondering on the implications and future. Cecilia is no different; her mind is still taken back to the pub and her family. In the chaos she knew that if she slowed down for anything; she might be left for dead. Her only hope for her family was that they made it out of the city, regardless of the last scornful exchanges they had with her before she joined the loyalists.

Cecilia's daily routine consists of breakfast, cleaning her room, lunch, cleaning her room, dinner, staring at family heirlooms and keepsakes, and then nightmare riddled sleep, repeat. It was after a week of this monotonous schedule that something happened. As she was walking down the hallway in one the in-between times when she was ether traveling to the mess hall or to her room, she overheard two crewmen talking to one another. It was at this time that many of the occupants had started to warm up to each other and try to recreate normalcy. "Hay there, did I tell you about this strange guy, wears a grey jacket with the hood up, he's in the cargo hold" said one of the ex-wailers.

"So what about him" asked the other crewman indifferently?

"Well he keeps bribing me to stay quiet. So he's obviously not supposed to be down there. For all we know he could be a fugitive. Hell might even be Corvo or the masked man" the first one answered.

"Are you saying that we should be doing something about it" the second one queried? "He is paying you, you know."

"Yeah I know that, it just… it seems kind of… wrong" answered the first.

"Well now we do have a problem. Let me think for a moment" responded the second.

"So" asked the first?

"I said give me a moment!" replied the other one with a slight harshness in tone. After a brief moment of silence from the first and grumblings from the second, the second crewman said "ah-ha! Yes that'll work!"

The first raised his eyebrows and asked "what'll work" quizzically?

"Okay, say we take the money." he paused there and waited for the other to nod. "And we take the money for the whole trip." At this the first was about to say something when the second raised his hand and said "wow wow wait a minute! Let me finish" rather forcefully. Before continuing "so we take the money for the whole trip Intel we get to about hundred or so lieges from the coast and then we tell the captain about how we found this "cunning stowaway" that escaped our notice for so long, by that time we had milked him mostly dry of coin, he's thrown overboard, and we all forget about it. Sound good to you."

The first one paused for several seconds digesting the plan he just heard before he replied "isn't that even worse."

To which the second one replied "huh?"

Then the first one clarified "we'd be deceiving both the captain and the man."

The second one sighed then said "We need the money, wait" his eyes harden "we are in this together… right"

To which the first one stuttered a reply "y-yea."

Then the second one softened and replied "I know you don't want to do it but we need the money Jerry. The empires in shambles and we are going to have to start up new lives, we need that coin."

There was a pause then jerry said "you always were convincing Marvin."

They then exchanged goodbyes and left separate ways, ignorant of the eavesdropper out of sight. Those words began to sink in; Corvo might be on the ship. Could she go see him, would she even want to, to see one of the subjects of her nightmares? What could she even say to him after what he has done? When she first met him he seemed intimidating but she thought she saw something in him, but every time he would return from the pub he smelled like blood, a lot of blood. After he saved Emily, he seemed to soften the smell of blood diminished into a faint subtle scent. Then the loyalists tuned on him and in turn, on themselves. When he returned and he and she shared a brief conversation, he reeked of blood. It was as if the blood of hundreds permanently stained his blade and permeated the air around him. He wasn't there to talk or to save; his eyes said everything even with his grotesque mask on you could see it, the intent in his eyes, hot shimmering pits of bubbling rage bent on vengeance and wrath.

Cecilia pondered on that for the rest of the day; her routine was done automatically by her body. That night in her slumber her dream was a nightmare as usual, and that just won't do. Cecilia's world was cold and wet. The was wind howling, thunder and thousands of heavy rain drops clanging against cold metal in a chaotic and upset rhythm, it overwhelmed her ears. Her vision faded from darkness. She was standing on a girder jutting out of the side of a metal walkway coming out of a large structure. The structure was made out of metal like many of the new structures in this era of Sokolov technologies. She looked down; vertigo would have caused her to lurch and fall as she realized that she was on the spire of a lighthouse on Kingsparrow Island, but she could not move

Then Havelock came out on the walkway dragging Emily with him. She thrashed around, and then loudly demanded "Let me go, I'm your emperies!"

Havelock stopped about three quarters away from the end of the walkway then said "didn't you learn anything in your short life." He then resumed walking (and dragging) albeit a slower pace "empresses are pieces on the board and an empress can sometimes die." He continued "everything has come up to this and it all means nothing, the plague will take us all!" He no longer talked like he was in a conversation he was just stating his woes. "You could have sat on the throne with me behind you but now Corvo-" he said that name with venom "-is racing here ready to dash it all to bits!"

Emily then stated "Corvo is going to kill you!" anger and venom dripping from her voice, thrashing with vigor

Havelock stopped, about a quarter away from the edge now, and said. "Ha! How? Corvo's killed a lot of people, but he's terrible at saving empresses! He's the worst of us you know."

To this Emily started jumping and thrashing around like an animal, then screamed. "No! He loves and he is my friend and I am the emperies!"

Havelock was starting to struggle to hold her. He then yanked hard on her right arm, there was a loud pop as her shoulder dislocated, she shrieked in pain. Havelock yelled "Ha! A little dignity!" while he yelled that, he closed the distance between them and the edge then said. "I think we'll go now"he glanced from the edge to the girl before continuing "you and me, into the history books together. Say goodbye my emprise, this world has no place for little girls."

Havelock was about to jump with Emily in his grasp when he glanced back and saw Corvo at the beginning of the walkway. Corvo took a step forward. Havelock turned and held Emily up as a meat shield, then said. "Stay where you are Corvo or I jump!"

Emily then screamed "Corvo save me!"

Havelock then squeezed her right shoulder causing her to cry out in pain then said "Be quiet!" Corvo pulled out his pistol and aimed it at him. Havelock wasn't stupid, he knew Corvo wouldn't miss, but maybe he could drag Emily with him as he died. "He won't!" said Havelock to Emily, then to Corvo "will you Corvo, you had your chance to be a hero" lined up the shot "in a minuet this will just be another bloody mess you've left behind!" Corvo's hand faltered at that. "Do you want your honor back, do you want to rescue the lady in distress?" Corvo's hand is shaking now; the mark on his hand is visibly glowing. Havelock continued "oh no Corvo that's not y-"Corvo fired his pistol, he missed. The bullet hit Emily in the collar bone, traveled through her body and into Havelock's, hitting a full inch below his heart. Havelock rocked back from the blow; fell off the edge still holding Lady Emily in his arms. They fell screaming, onto the rocky cliffs, jagged spires, and frothy tantrum of the sea. Emily's last discernible scream was "Corvoooo!" Throughout this Cecilia was trying to scream, to do anything, but she was petrified and unseen.

Cecilia awoke with a yell in a cold sweet, panting, and shivering.

Authors Note:

What did you guys think of that? Actual dialogue, first full attempt hope you enjoy it, although half of it was ripped from the game. Please review this; I would like some constructive criticism over this so that I can better myself. Also I promise right here and now that I will never hold this or any off my future works for hostage ever, if one person reads my work and enjoys it I'm happy, if no one did then I take it as a learning experience and I'm still happy and as long as I put my work out there I'll stay that way. Moving one this will be my last chapter in this raped fire 1k words style the next chapter will come out in the latter half of next week and it will be over 2k words, that is a promise, and it will be much more refined than these three also further editing to my past chapters. Furthermore here something that you should know the next chapters first half will be more mellow than usual to have more character development and moral choices for the characters. Then it will start to rise again in the last half. Also it might be the beginning of the transition to the countries.

See you guys later.

Rambler


	4. Chapter 3

Okay everyone I am incredibly sorry for not updating sooner but life did indeed happen and it is entirely my fault. Hopefully you can forgive me.

I own nothing… again

Chapter 3

Cecilia was conflicted, if this man in the cargo hold was Corvo then should she do something, but if not should she care, should she still warn him, whoever he is that the crew plan on betraying him, on robbing him blind then killing him. And if he is Corvo on that slim chance, than should she save him, that man, that murderer, does he deserve to die or can he be given another chance. Can he really be saved after all he has done, does he even deserve it?

Samuel told her about the screaming, every time he dropped Corvo at a destination, screaming always followed. He told her that on the night he left, on the night he saved Corvo. He said it with a vacant yet urgent tone in his voice, like he was contemplating over a grave realization. Maybe he realized that the city was dying and he just helped it along towards the now inevitable death. He had a grimaced face that was contorted with the visible emotions of fear, anger, sadness and guilt. Is it possible that he blamed himself for what had happened like he was responsible for Corvo's actions, by merely fairing him from place to place? That, maybe if Corvo was somehow stopped or never brought along to begin with the death of so many innocents and the destruction of Dunwall might have never happened. The masked man might never had emerged.

That mask, the chaos spread and sins done by that masked man. The mass murders and fear, it gives every sane man shivers just thinking of the indiscriminate slaughter of many. The mask became a symbol, a specter and a corporeal entity of death and chaos. The atrocities that the masked man left in his wake are several of the many night terrors of the outsider, which have and will torment mankind for millennia. The tainted grounds of Dunwall have added a new atrocity to its dark and forgotten annals that will never fade from the world, in tell the void in its ravenous and infinite gluttony swallow it, and any final vestiges of the universe into its endless and formless purgatory.

All of that and Cecilia knew who was the man behind the mask. She knew from the first solemn and strained announcement from the box hanging in the street. The voice of the announcer was stressed from the gravity. He almost lost his composure for the first time on that day. She knew then that it was Corvo, the silent protector now blood soaked assassin spreading discord and misery with every stroke of his sanguine blade carving flesh, innocence and hope into torn and shredded chunks that have lost all meaning. Cecilia knew that man, that creature behind the mask, it was Corvo Attano.

Corvo Attano, the shamed and framed lord protector of the empress. Surly he could not have attained his esteemed and essential position by being so bloodthirsty and irresponsible. Maybe Coldridge prison changed him for the worst. Before the district the pub was in was quarantined, she had heard many an unpleasant rumor of Coldridge prison, of a dark and merciless interrogator rising the ranks and becoming the former spymaster now lord regents royal interrogator, leaving sadistically mangled souls, bodies and psyches behind. Maybe the interrogator destroyed Corvo's humanity in the no doubt numerous sessions they had over the course of six months?

What Havelock said in her dream about Corvo being the worst of us, was Havelock right? Of all the horrible things that Havelock, the discharged admiral rumored to have the bloodlust ad done, was he still better than Corvo. Did Martin the disgraced and traitorous overseer, who used Campbell's black book more than Campbell ever did, deserve less punishment for his sins than Corvo? Lord Trevor Pendleton, the one who threw his own two brothers in to the void for the cause, the greater good; did he earn more mercy than Corvo?

Tolling from the mid-day bells pulled Cecilia out of her contemplative stupor. The world rematerialized around her, as her mind returned to it. The first thing she focused on was her hands. Callused appendages griped expertly around the handle of her broom. She remembers her job, her livelihood; her livelihood was burned into her mind and muscle. Maintaining the pub and servicing its customers. At least that is what it used to be before. A piercing pang stabbed her chest, she seemed to almost stumble and her throat dried. Her body twitched and fidgeted as she repressed the memories. The pub was probably burning like the rest of the city.

Quickly and awkwardly she sat the broom down with fumbling fingers in the corner of her room. Then she exited the room still fidgeting. It was after about a minute of haphazardly rushing down the stairs and hallways did Cecilia suddenly realized that she had no idea where she was going. Several seconds later she remembered that the midday bell had rung and that she should head to lunch. With her bearings regained she turned the corner and there was the mess hall. Surprised Cecelia quickly deduced that she must have subconsciously come here. It still seemed uncanny though. It may be due to her schedule or comfort? She truthfully didn't want to know, but she could have already known… now wasn't the time or place.

Moving those thoughts to the back of her mind, quickly she entered the food line. The mess hall was of a minimalist design, standard for a fishing vessel. Since the ship was never intended to be a refugee ship and house many of the non crew passengers everyone went to the same mess hall and slept in the same barracks. After waiting in line for ten minutes she was handed a naturally Spartan meal, shriveled fish fillet and a small cup of water. Cecilia sat down at a dull brown wooden table to stare at her cup of water, and then slowly drifted back to her thoughts.

* * *

The rusty door swung open and illuminated the cargo hold with harsh yellow light. Corvo shaken from his slumber quickly and silently dispersed into the now shaven shadows. A man shaped shadow cast itself over the hold from the door frame. Corvo waited for more shadows to come from the door before it closed. He knew that the number of shadows cast could mean many different scenarios. It was not just how many but how the shadows moved that told the most. Like the cold indifferent walk of a worker tasked with a menial task, or the observant and calculated steps of a threat. This one however, seemed to flinch at the darkness but then quickly bolded into a deliberate walk. Corvo relaxed slightly, he knew who this person was but not their purpose. Silently he made his way over to the meeting spot over crate and rodent, where they first met, but careful to only skulk around it.

* * *

It was on Corvo's third night in the ship did they meet. Corvo had evaded all discovery and suspicion from the crew. On the third night Corvo was resting, he had grown careless and overconfident from eluding detection. A worker named Jerry had forgotten a necklace, an heirloom in the hold. The worker must have dropped it while working. So that night after he had realized this and then traced it to the cargo hold, he went to retrieve the necklace.

Jerry entered the cargo hold silently; he didn't want to create a ruckus and disrupt the night shift, watch and sleeping schedule for just this. Slowly Jerry opened the rusty creaky door; a slow pained moan from the door quietly reverberated in the cargo hold. He flinched at the thick darkness shrouding the hold as if it was a toxic murk enveloping it. Then Jerry steeling himself stared to creep into the shadows carefully placing his steps lightly on the floor. This room, the cargo hold, was filled with plain but random crates all stacked haphazardly. There formations were supposed to be uniformed but with the large overcrowding and packing, the crate stacks have become a labyrinth filled with dead ends, and diverging paths, it was a mind numbing ordeal to trudge through.

Jerry wasn't worried, he knew this labyrinth well, his job was to unpack and label the cargo hold. But that was always with someone else and a safety line with the light on, now he is alone and in the dark without a line. He felt lonely and unwelcome in the shadows. He felt an uncanny and unnerving sense of being watched. The token teachings of the abbey sunk back into his mind as he remembered what the overseers said to him about the outsider and the void. The shadows started to take a new texture around him, a sinister texture. As if it had shifted into an eldritch, inky black substance that surrounded him, encroaching, and threatening to consume him as its slimy tendrils slithered slowly towards him. Panicked, Jerry ran.

* * *

Corvo skulked in the shadows surrounding the worker. Corvo thought that he would have to scare him off somehow, but this man seemed to have become terrified all by himself. Corvo could see and sense the fear in him, more labored breaths, twitching, and widened eyes. Most people wouldn't be able to see hardly anything in the darkness, but Corvo's eyes had adequately adjusted to it over the days he spent in it. Corvo was just waiting for this worker to tire out so he could just swoop in and knock him out, plus the way the worker was he would probably just think it was all a dream. Unless of course he doesn't, but then Corvo is fairly certain that he could dispose of the body rather easily and quietly.

Corvo started to notice that in this worker's random and panicked running that he was getting rather close to Corvo's little hovel in the center of the maze. Corvo silently swore then stood up and went into a quick but silent pace across the tops of the crates not wanting to be discovered.

* * *

Jerry had forgotten how long he had run or why he started, but at this point all he was thinking was to run. He felt an extremely powerful need to run. From what he could only guess and imagine. As he was running he felt but did not notice a strange compulsion to go this right or this left. He felt and knew that if he were to make a wrong turn horrible things would happen. Something was watching him, waiting for him to tire so it could pluck him out of the darkness and into the true void. It was in Jerry's frenzied running that he stumbled over something padded like a bag and fell face first into discarded cans and tins. He looked around and realized that this was a living space and if it was that then who was living here. Then suddenly an almost silent, shifting, eldritch tone quietly rang its muffled chime in across the hold. A cold dagger settled in the space just in front of Jerry's neck almost instantly after the chime. Jerry only realized this half a second later.

* * *

Corvo swore again when the worker tripped over his supply sack and flew right into his trash pile. "How did he find the campsite" the thought reverberated through his mind. Corvo was heavily surprised that the seemingly random fleeing from this random boat worker ended up guiding him directly to Corvo's shambled settlement in the middle of the make shift labyrinth. Now he has to act fast, no one can know that he is here, and now the only measure is a drastic one.

Quickly but reluctantly he draws his dagger, and then calls upon eldritch and mystical powers. Suddenly Corvo blinks behind the worker and rests his dagger on the workers neck in one blindingly fast fluid motion, but something stops him from drawing his blade across the workers neck. Then the workers slow reactions set in, he freezes almost on the spot, repressing a surprised jolt, his body's muscles stiffen to an almost shaking taunt, his breath hitches as realization sets in, then quickens as terror sets in. Corvo knew these actions all too well, it disturbed him, and all the people he has killed. Corvo tries to slit this man's neck but as he is about to do it when a familiar scream rips through his mind. Now it's his turn for muscles to tense up and shake.

* * *

The silence is nerve-racking for Jerry. His mind is working in a panicked hyper-active state. Seconds feel like minutes and minutes like hours. He noticed that the dagger at his neck was shaking. Then Jerry started to say something when a harsh voice snapped back "silence!" the dagger vanished and was replaced by an arm wrapping around his neck. Then the harsh whisper returned to his ear "don't mention this, don't talk about this and don't remember this or you will know my wrath!" then Jerry slipped into unconsciousness. Later Jerry awoke in his bed and hoped that he just drank too much last night.

* * *

After several days Jerry had worked up the courage to return, this time in the middle of the work day and with a children's toy, loud and sure to draw every ones attention should "negotiations" grow sour. The extortion was set, a bribe was to be placed in a dead drop every day or else. The dead drop being an empty crate. Corvo while livid couldn't complain, the bribe was a low price and he had plenty of money to pay it for two trips over. But this was the first time Jerry has come at night, Corvo was puzzled. Then the door opened again and six more shadows formed.

Authors Note: again I want to apologize for taking so long. For some reason life got a lot more eventful just after I started up this hobby. But to sum it up (takes deep breath), Grandparents had medical problems, my dog died, passed first semester (barely), I'm now an uncle, had writers block, and about a million problems just suddenly cropped up at one time. (Catching breath) Now that I've addressed that I also want to say that I will from this point try to update more and produce more content in a more scheduled way. But as you now know I am a slacker so don't get your hopes to high. Also I noticed something incredibly annoying while writing this. The perspective shifts in a third person omniscient story it's annoying to write and completely nonsensical I will avoid it in the future… sorry.

See you next time,

Rambler


	5. Chapter 4

Hello everybody it has been awhile. Sorry for not updating for so long it's just that I'm lazy and had writers block as well as starting a new story that I'm still working on. Hopefully it will see the light of let's talk about this chapter it's the longest I've ever written (but that doesn't say very much) and easily the most bloody, gory, violent, and dark I've ever written so

Reader discretion advised

This is M for a reason

I will say again, I own nothing

Chapter 4

At first it was a simple rise of cost in the bribe, but now, Jerry cringed at the thought. It started with a few more coins here and there. Then the amount started to steadily rise at a stable albeit slow pace. The coinage just kept rising and rising and now what has Marvin done. The oaf spread the rumor around and now several of his "friends" want in on the extortion. Now all Jerry can do is pick up the pieces and hope that this won't come back to bite him. Jerry could join them, those mongrels and there machinations. He quickly dispels the thought. But then again he wasn't much better. "No I couldn't join them" he mentally retorted himself. "There extortionist" the thought moved slower as realization smacked him in the face.

Jerry visibly twitched under cold, lucid illumination. He may not have had that much trust or as a matter of fact, any lukewarm feeling towards the stranger. But he still felt the gravity of what he did shift uncomfortable in his belly. Jerry wanted to stop this but there was nothing he could do. If he confronted his bull-headed friend about this it would only end violently and most likely in the stowaway's discovery even more quickly due to inquisition on the captain's part. At the same time if he does nothing then they will bleed the stowaway's funds until he's dry then inform the captain anyway. The worst case scenario is that the stowaway tries to fight back. While Jerry thinks that the man can definitely defend himself he would have to be the lord protector or masked man to be able to fend off seven burly, drunken bruisers. In the event of it the stowaway is beaten to a bloody pulp and looted then thrown overboard, easier to explain to the captain when there's nothing to explain.

The thought of action floated up to the center of his mind. Jerry had to do something; he would not just sit idly by as his friends commit murder. "But what could you do? What could you really do?" the whispers yell truth and evaporate the previous thought with their mere presence. This truth was a hopeless truth: spelling the finite fact and the descent. So Jerry stayed there in his room contemplating. This was the end of many things and Jerry resigned himself to watch and hope that somehow that will absolve him of all his sins and the guilt of association. Then the knock of reality banged from the door and the new role he choose shattered in the wind and an older one took its place.

Cecelia had finally decided that it did not matter if the man in the cargo hold was Corvo or not she was going to at least going to see if he needed help. What happened in Dunwall was horrific and will scar her forever but it wouldn't mean that she would be in a near catatonic depression forever. This morning was strange; Cecilia woke up feeling refreshed and alert. Strange also was here dream if she could remember it.

The thoughts of action swelled in Cecilia's mind as she brazenly walked down the many halls of the ship in a composed stride. This person in the cargo hold needed help and she was the only person that could help him. As she rounded a corner she noticed a large party of men, eight to be exact. At the head of the party were two familiar faces. The skinny one, Jerry she thought, looked haggard and gaunt, eyes filled with an almost serene dread. The other one, Marvin, large and drunk, his eyes were glazed from intoxication and Cecilia was certain that she could smell him from here.

They were in front of the door to the cargo hold. Silently Cecilia swore, too late. Jerry quietly said the he would go and check out the hold. Marvin either didn't hear Jerry or ignored it as he gave a boisterous battle plan accented with his drunken slurring. Jerry slowly opened the door and flinched. His cold deadpan demeanor faltered for a moment but quickly reformed and he entered the hold. The door slowly closed with a pained groan after Jerry left it behind him. Marvin's drunk, garbled speech ended then he and his entourage went into the hold.

Cecilia knew that it was time to call the guards but realized that the man in the hold would probably die by their hands anyway. She could try and intervene but she can't physically contend with that group of men and would only end up in deeper trouble. All Cecilia felt like she could do was watch as they killed a man. 'Maybe they won't' whispered in here mind; calming her. The door was open, she inched closer to it. Slowly Cecilia moved her head through the door. Watching and listening to what happened next.

Corvo's mind raced as seven men walked through the door. Corvo could tell by their demeanor that this wasn't a good thing. Corvo dispersed into the shadows and silently prowled on top of the crates as he stalked the party of drunkards from above. The inky black gave him protection as the intruders approached the center of the maze of crates. The idea of confronting them to see want occurred to him, his minds retort of this was snuffed out.

The group stopped at the center of the maze. They followed the instruction of the skinny one. Anger flared in Corvo when he thought of that man but quickly he suppressed it needing to think clearly at the moment. The temptation to let his anger control him and slaughter them all also flared up; he tried very hard to hold that back. The large one yelled for Corvo to show himself Corvo obliged. Corvo materialized out of the inky black darkness almost seeming too slid out. The skinny one started to fidget as his heart rate sped up. The large drunken leader narrowed his eyes and snorted. The leader seemed to want to intimidate Corvo but Corvo saw just a slight bit of hesitation in his eyes, he saw innocence. Maybe the leader became this intoxicated hoping to not remember killing someone.

The drunkard yelled "Where's all yer money? This is a new deal." He hiccupped after that. He and his crew started to advance on Corvo aside from one who backed away with eyes filled with regret. Corvo remained stoically silent as the group approached. "Huh! I didn't hear yer answer dere my friend!" the drunken one said with a voice filled with malice. "Huh!" the leader shoved Corvo "were's my money". Corvo regaining his neutral stance fished out his coin purse and opened it. The leaders' eyes seemed to either sparkle with greed or victory or both. Then Corvo emptied the purse on the leaders' feet. The leaders' eyes darkened.

"Pick it up" the drunkard said, voice dripping with anger. Then he yelled "I said pick it up you stupid bitch!" the drunkard threw a punch that connected with Corvo's cheek. Corvo stumbled back; his fists were clenched shaking in rage as he furiously resisted the temptation to fight back. "No?" the drunkard said as he drew a knife. "Then I guess you're a useless dog!" he continued "And you know what we do with useless dogs on this ship?" the drunkard slowly started to walk towards Corvo. "We slit their throats, then we gut it, then skin them, then we eat the useless dogs!" the drunkard continued as he walked closer "and you know what I see?" then he stopped walking, right in front of Corvo "a useless dog" the drunkard thrust his knife.

The knife cut though the air as it was propelled towards Corvo. The knife's blade glinted in the lanterns light. Corvo saw it coming towards him. With instincts screaming as they take control he steps back, hand grabs wrist, redirection to the side, low kick to back of knee, hand twists, other hand snatches knife out of air, move knife in front of neck, stop! Corvo suddenly wrestled control from his muscle memory and stopped himself from murdering this drunkard. The leader had yet completely comprehended or react yet and the same for the rest of the intruders. Corvo's control was fleeting however. A familiar and emotionless voice, neither loud nor quiet, neither whispered nor echoed, just there emanating from the darkest point in his mind, laced with indifferent finality and it said "Kill him."

With that like a puppet on strings Corvo drew the knife across the drunkard's neck severing veins, arteries and Corvo. What was left was a person who was confused, terrified, dying, and the masked man. The person dying fell forward onto the discarded money, his blood mixing with the coin. The drunkard sputtered and gasped for air, his lifeblood draining. The masked man wondered for a moment. What would take the man first shock, blood loss, suffocation? In the end it didn't matter, it never does and it never will. The masked man looks at the rest of the intruders and smiled at their horrified, bewildered faces. Some of them haven't even realized what the masked man has done. Two seconds have passed since that drunkard tried to stab Corvo and was killed by the masked man. The voice in his head spoke again "Kill them all" and the masked man was happy to oblige.

The masked man's hand was still in motion from slitting there leaders throat. He flicked his wrist and let go of the knife. The knife spun in the air momentum sending it backwards. The man's hand caught the blade of the knife with his thumb and index finger. The masked man then straitened his thumb and wrist then picked his target, a man standing directly in front of him with another man at his right. The knife was thrown. The masked mans right hand still moving down curved it to the left so as to grab the dagger in his jacket. He moved his view and said the spell as his hand grasped the daggers handle.

Suddenly the masked man was in front of the person next to his first target. Quickly and fluidly he drew his dagger and stabbed forward. The dagger pierced in between the second targets ribs and into his heart. The knife flew into the first targets eye at this moment. The second targets backward momentum in recoil allowed the masked man to easier take his dagger out of the second targets chest. The masked man moved his vision to the left and saw the third target. The third target was tense and ready to fight; armed with a lead pipe he took a step forward. Before the third target could finish his step forward the masked man blinked right front of the third target and preformed an upward slash with his dagger. The tip of the dagger cut the third targets jugular in half at an angle and continued upward and a little to the left, splitting anything that came into its path. The tip of the dagger exited the third targets upper lip. The first target moved his hands up to his destroyed eye and let out a pained scream.

The third target passed out immediately, split jaw flapping uselessly. The masked man then plucked the lead pipe out of the air with his left hand. Then using what he remembered from his targets original positioning, plus the shapes in his peripheral vision, the masked man threw the lead pipe horizontally at the fourth target. The first target collapsed on the ground still screaming. Then using his body's spinning momentum faced the fifth target then blinked. The masked man was still spinning and using the momentum buried his dagger into the fifth targets neck, right behind the earlobe. Leaving the dagger in the fifth target the masked man started to spin again grabbing the lead pipe out of the air.

The masked man added his force full swing to the original throw then swung at the fourth targets head. The lead pipe connected with the left side of the fourth targets head. The fourth targets head crumpled in on itself, blood and grey matter bursting out of the back and top. Leaving the lead pipe with the fourth target the masked man looked at the sixth target. The sixth target was horrified and had dropped his knife. The masked man blinked to the sixth target then snapped his neck. The first target was still thrashing around on the ground with a knife in his eye. With a final blink the masked man landed on top of the first target then wrenched the knife out of the targets eye then slit his throat. Seven deaths, eight seconds, the masked man felt pleased. But he wanted to kill eight; the most important one was running the one he had to kill.

Cecilia heard a man scream some fighting and more screaming. The man in the cargo hold was Corvo. A person was running, screaming help. She saw Jerry run out of the darkness. Jerry tripped, cried out in pain, he twisted his ankle. Jerry screamed for help again as futilely tried to get up again only to stumble. Jerry yelled for help another time only this time he was looking at Cecilia strait in the eye. Now Cecilia realized that Jerry was yelling at her. Jerry's face was covered in tears he had been sobbing. Cecilia was about to run to his aid, to save him, but then she remembered that Corvo was here, that Corvo was after Jerry. She remembered that Corvo killed anyone in his way. Cecilia ran.

As Cecilia ran she head Jerry scream and holler and beg and cry for her to help him, he screamed the loudest when Corvo gutted him. The thought "it was Corvo" repeated in her mind in what seemed an eternity as she ran to her room; it made here run faster. When she got to her room she locked the door behind her. Then she stacked all the furniture against the door. She crawled into the fetal position and repeated "He's here. He's here. He's here." Cecilia did this until was nearly hyperventilating. Then she stopped, someone was trying to open the door.

Author's notes: apologizing again for taking so long to write this. Also this little prologue part has stretched on into its own story and I may actually split this apart when I finally do get to the actual meat of the idea I've got. Wow this chapter got out of hand and I almost feel like apologizing for it being this way. Also the reason I got so detailed with the gore is because I felt like showing you how the masked man thinks, and I wanted to show how dangerous he is considering he only used on power there. Also there is a very similar reason why I counted the number of deaths and seconds and it was to show you how ridiculously fast and lethal Corvo is. Also the next few chapters will probably feel like a slasher film honestly. Finally I think I should note that I got some of the inspiration for the fight scene from hotline Miami.

Humbly saying goodbye!

Rambler .


End file.
